


Quarantine Moments

by refinedbuffoonery



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I don't even know how to tag this, and riley's unrequited feelings, random quarantine stuff, with a side of sibling shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refinedbuffoonery/pseuds/refinedbuffoonery
Summary: Random drabbles about Mac/Riley/Bozer during their 10 months quarantining at Mac’s house. Either pining Riley/Mac moments or whatever dumb, funny shit I decide the three of them get into.Most of these will be INCREDIBLY short, but occasionally there will be a longer one.Come find me on tumblr (@refinedbuffoonery) for more regular fic updates, snarky commentary, and more. This fic is updated every Saturday on tumblr, and on here whenever I remember lol.
Relationships: Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer & Riley Davis (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 142





	1. Quarantine Episode Bonus Scene

Somehow, Mac thinks, Matty is just as intimidating when she’s chastising them through a screen as she is in real life. When she’s done, the robot displaying her video feed lurches forward, nearly running Riley over on its way to enable Matty to terrorize someone else. Mac thinks Matty is enjoying that toy a little too much. 

In her attempt to avoid the robot, Riley steps back, arms raised in surrender, and collides with Mac. She stumbles, and Mac’s hands find her waist automatically. Riley’s body is soft under his grip, unlike Desi’s. There’s nothing soft about Desi, all steel edges and corded muscle. His brain unhelpfully points out how nice holding Riley feels, but Mac quickly buries the thought. 

Mac’s hands linger for a second too long before letting go. 

“Thanks,” Riley mumbles, looking uncomfortable. _Shit_. Why didn’t he grab her shoulders instead like a normal human being? Why did he have to make it weird by grabbing her waist? 

First the moment the other night, and now this. What the hell? 

Mac turns to see Bozer staring at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite place. But, Mac doesn’t have to read Bozer’s mind to know the look is about the way he’d just grabbed Riley. His best friend is like a bloodhound for stuff like that. 

Knowing full well he might be trading one awkward encounter for another, Mac makes his way over to Desi, desperately trying to forget about Riley with each step. 


	2. The Haircut

Riley had just closed her eyes when she hears Mac yelling at her down the hall. She groans. So much for her nap. Maybe if she pretends to be asleep, he will leave her alone, Riley hopes. 

Mac’s footsteps echo on the hardwood floor. Riley knows it’s only a matter of time before he finds her curled up in bed, cuddling a pillow. The footsteps cease. “There you are,” she hears. Followed by, “I know you’re only pretending to be asleep.” 

Riley tilts her head up just enough to give Mac her best death glare. “This better be good.” Mac sits on the bed by her knees. Any other time she’d flush at them sitting on a bed together, but right now all she wants is for him to leave her alone. 

“I need your help,” he says. “I just got done FaceTiming Bozer’s mom, and she made fun of my hair and said it looked like a bad mullet.” Riley smirks. Bozer’s mom isn’t wrong. “Can you please cut it?” 

Riley sighs. “There’s a very high chance I’ll just make it worse, but if you really want me to, then yes.” 

“ _Please_.” He sounds desperate. 

“I’ll do it later,” she promises. “Now get out of my room and let me nap in peace.” 

Mac laughs. “Yes ma’am.” He squeezes her calf, and Riley feels the ghost of his touch long after he’s gone. 

~~~~~

The best part of this at-home hair cutting endeavor is, without a doubt, that she gets to make Mac wear a trash bag. Riley makes sure to get plenty of pictures of him wearing the trash bag turned hairdresser cape. 

She makes him stick his head under the sink to get his hair wet, and afterward he looks like Shaggy from the Scooby Doo cartoons she watched as a kid. Snickering, Riley chucks a towel at Mac before he drips water all over the floor. 

“The point of this is to be made fun of _less_ ,” Mac grumbles. 

Riley grins. “Consider it payment for my services.” She motions for him to sit on the kitchen stepstool, which she’d laid a tarp underneath to catch the hair. 

Mac sighs when she runs her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, and Riley swears he slightly leans into her touch. Despite her better judgement, she plays with Mac’s hair a bit longer than necessary. 

Now the hard part. Actually cutting his hair. 

Riley has no idea what she’s doing. She watched a few YouTube tutorials earlier, but every bit of information she gleaned vanishes from her mind as soon as the scissors are in her hand. Riley suddenly wishes he’d asked Bozer instead. Bozer was good at stuff like this. Bozer figured out how to cut his own hair, dammit. 

“You good?” Mac asks, tipping his head back so it rests against Riley’s stomach while he looks at her. 

_Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out._

“I…uhh…have no idea what I’m doing,” she admits, ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the domesticity of it all. “I definitely might make it worse.” 

He smiles reassuringly. “If you’re that worried about it, then don’t take a lot off, so Bozer can try to fix it if need be. But I trust you.” 

“You might regret that, but okay.” 

Riley tries her best. She really does. The end result is okay, but not great. She thinks she could get better at it though. 

“Thank you,” Mac says as they clean up. “It looks way better now.” Riley is dubious, but she accepts the praise anyway. “Oh!” He freezes. “Did you want me to do yours?” 

Riley trusted Mac with a lot of things, but her hair was not one of them. She feigned utter horror at the idea. “And risk Bozer finding out I cheated on him with another hairdresser? I choose life.” 

Mac laughed. “Fair enough.” 

Maybe quarantine won’t be so bad after all. 


	3. The Dishwasher Argument

There’s no argument quite like The Dishwasher Argument. 

Bozer has lived with Mac so long that the last time they had the dishwasher argument nearly a decade ago. Mac and Riley have lived together long enough at this point that Bozer is sure they’ve had it too. 

But now that Bozer has moved back in with Mac _and_ Riley, the argument resurfaces when he notices something. 

Riley _sucks_ at loading the dishwasher. 

Now, Bozer and Mac have always disagreed on _how_ to arrange the dishes, but neither has a problem with making them all fit. Riley, for some reason, is incapable of that feat. 

The argument started a week into quarantine. In passing, Bozer noticed that there were still a bunch of unwashed dishes on the counter, despite the dishwasher light indicating its contents were clean. He’d asked, “Why are there still dishes on the counter?” 

Without looking up from her video game, Riley had answered, “They didn’t all fit.” 

“Really?” Bozer was surprised, but he reminded Riley to take care of them before dinner and moved on. 

Two months into quarantine, Bozer finally catches on. Tired of waiting for Riley to do her share of the chores, he decides to help her out and unload the dishwasher. When he opens it, the mystery of the extra dishes is solved. 

And maybe it’s just the cabin fever rearing its ugly head, but he’s _pissed_. 

“RILEY!” She’s out on the deck, but all the doors and windows are open, so Bozer knows she can hear him just fine. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THE DISHES DEFINITELY COULD’VE ALL FIT. YOU JUST SUCK AT LOADING THE DISHWASHER.” 

Bozer hears the screech of a deck chair, followed by echoing footsteps, and then Riley is in front of him, hands braced on the island and looking like she doesn’t give a fuck about his opinion of her dishwasher loading skills. 

Chaos ensues, and the kitchen quickly becomes a war zone. 

Mac walks in, and the first thing Bozer thinks is that his best friend should’ve gone on a longer run. Mac’s eyes widen as he takes in the screaming match in front of him, and Bozer wants to laugh at the pleading look Riley shoots him. Mac won’t help her out of this one. Mac is the king of loading the dishwasher. 

He studies the open, still-loaded dishwasher from the safety of the entryway. Apparently Mac either missed Riley’s look or is just plain ignoring it, because he says, “If you’d put the plates on the other side and tucked the little stuff under the big bowl, it would’ve all fit.” He walks down the hall without another word. 

Riley snarls something about needing to move out, but Bozer just smirks, relishing his triumph. 

That night, he sets all his devices to airplane mode, just in case. 


	4. Riley Gets Catcalled

She doesn’t say “hi” when she walks in. She groans, and then Mac hears the sound of someone flopping on his mattress. Still fiddling with a pair of gears, he looks up from his desk to see Riley lying facedown on his freshly made bed. She must’ve just gotten back from her run; she’s only wearing running shorts and a sports bra, and sweat glistens on her back and makes her hair stick to her neck. 

“Dude, I _just_ washed my sheets.” 

Another groan. “Don’t care. Can I rant for a minute?” Her voice is muffled by the mattress. 

He sighs. “Go for it.” 

Riley snarls, “I got fucking _catcalled_ again by the creepy old dude who lives at the bottom of the hill! And before you say anything, no I won’t change my route. I like my route. I just want that asshole to fucking leave me alone!” 

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” 

“Can we get a dog? Like a big, scary one that I can train to eat gross men’s eyeballs.” He knows she’s not serious. They can’t have a dog, not with their jobs. 

“Do you want me to start going with you?” 

She doesn’t look up, but her tone softens. “No. I’m not going to ask you to give up your alone time. Besides, it’s mine too.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” Mac wishes he could fix this for her. She deserves to feel safe in her own neighborhood. Every woman does. 

“I’m sure.” 

Mac looks out the window, eyes landing on the surfboard propped up on the deck. He gets an idea. “The beaches are open again. We can go early tomorrow if you want. It’ll just be us and the surfers.” He doesn’t know if Riley likes running on the beach or not, but it’s worth a shot. 

She seems to think it over for a second before answering, “Sure.” Mac smiles, already looking forward to it. 

“Sounds great,” he says. “Now get your sweaty ass off my bed.” 

“My _ass_ isn’t even on your bed,” Riley grumbles. She wiggles her hips for emphasis. 

Mac mimics her from earlier. “ _Don’t care_.” 

Riley flips him off as she gets up. “Thanks for letting me rant.” 

“Anytime.” Mac smirks, rolling his eyes before turning back to his desk. 


	5. Meteor Shower (Riley POV)

_It’ll be fun_ , they promise. 

_We don’t need a tent_ , they say. _We’ll sleep in the bed of the truck_ , they say. _We’ll all fit_ , they say. 

_It’ll be fun_ , they promise again. 

Riley knows better than to take “It’ll be fun” at face value. Especially when it comes out of Mac’s mouth. 

Five months into quarantine, when Riley’s favorite space nerds ask if she wants to drive out to the desert to watch a meteor shower, she agrees immediately. It’s a quick out and back trip. The plan is to have an early dinner, drive out to the desert for the night, and leave early in the morning before the August sun cooks them alive. Riley balks at their plan to sleep in the truck instead of a tent—sleeping in a truck bed always hurts, no matter how many blankets and pillows there are—but the boys’ excitement is infectious, and Riley can’t bring herself to say no. 

They argue about where in the desert to go. Mac wants to drive all the way to Death Valley, but Riley and Bozer shoot it down immediately. A four hour car ride is too far for an overnight trip. Then Bozer suggests Joshua Tree, but Mac claims it’s too popular. (Like there will be flocks of tourists there during a pandemic, but whatever.) So Riley forces them to compromise on Anza Borrego. It’s farther than J Tree, but not nearly as far as Death Valley, and they can pick up breakfast burritos in San Diego on their way home. 

Mac and Bozer never object to breakfast burritos. 

The boys do all the planning and preparation, so when Mac tosses Riley the keys to the truck, she’s almost surprised. “You’re driving,” he says. “Bozer’s in the back.” 

“Man, why am I always in the back?” Bozer complains. 

“Because Riley is a better driver than you.” Content to let them bicker, Riley smirks and starts the engine. 

“ _No_ ,” Bozer corrects from the middle seat, “Riley is a _faster_ driver. Not better.” 

At the same time, Riley and Mac both say, “Same thing.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

The drive goes much faster with Riley behind the wheel, although she refrains from rubbing it in. The sky shifts from lavender to deep blue to inky black as they drive away from the setting sun. 

It always amazes Riley that they can be so close to SoCal’s endless suburban sprawl, and yet be in the absolute middle of nowhere.

The moon is barely more than a sliver in the sky, and when they drop down into the desert, the vast darkness swallows the headlight beams. Riley rolls her window down, feeling the dry, balmy air caress her cheeks and neck. 

She figured someone else would have the same idea as them, but there isn’t another human soul as far as Riley can see. Even farther, most likely. 

When Riley gets out of the truck, the first thing she does is look up. The sky isn’t black at all, but rather a deep indigo alight with more stars than she could count in a thousand lifetimes. The Milky Way arcs overhead, and Riley’s eyes track it from one end of the horizon to another. It makes her feel small. 

It’s comforting, Riley thinks, to be reminded of her insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe, a welcome break from the constant world-ending consequences of her daily life. 

The trio get to work making their bed for the night. Mac’s two-person camping mattress goes down first, then the pillows and blankets. They didn’t even bother to bring sleeping bags since the nighttime temperature would only dip into the mid-seventies. 

Riley finds a tumbleweed near the front of the truck to pee behind before joining Mac and Bozer in the back. They’re lying on opposite sides of the truck bed, leaving as much space as possible for her in the middle. Realizing how close she’ll be to Mac, Riley takes a deep, steadying breath, grateful that it’s too dark for the boys to see her face. She should’ve begged Bozer to take the middle when she had the chance. 

Cursing herself for wearing booty shorts and a tank top, Riley tries not to notice how her bare skin brushes Mac’s as she squeezes into her spot. She blushes anyway. There is _definitely_ not room for three people. They should’ve just brought the damn tent. 

She misses the days when she could be in Mac’s personal space without every nerve in her body being acutely aware of how close he is. Everything was so much easier then. 

Covering herself in one of the thinner blankets—more for comfort and security than anything else—Riley sinks into the pillows and looks up. She knows the Perseids originate from the constellation Perseus, but there are so many stars that she gets lost trying to orient herself in the sky. As she opens her mouth to ask for help, a bright silver light zips across the horizon, gone in less than a second. 

“Did you see that?” Bozer squeals. 

Riley laughs softly. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it came from, or where I should be looking.” 

It’s Bozer’s turn to laugh. “For starters, don’t look straight up. Look near the horizon.” He points toward a random spot in the distance, his hand a dark shadow covering the glittering sea beyond. “As Perseus gets higher in the sky during the night, the meteors will appear to come from higher up too.” 

Riley nods before realizing he’s not paying attention. “Thanks.” 

As she studies the heavens, the sense of ease settles over her once again. Riley feels her body start to let go of the stress she’s been holding onto for months—the awkwardness of living with Mac, the endless pile of work stuff she has no motivation to do, worrying about her mom and Bozer’s parents, waking up every morning to increasingly batshit news headlines. Out here, she can escape, if only for a few hours. 

Riley catches three meteors in quick succession, each darting across the sky in a completely different direction. Mac hasn’t said a word since they laid down, so when Bozer gets up to pee, Riley nudges him with her knee and says, “You’ve been quiet.” 

Mac doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his gaze locked on something straight overhead. “Ancient Chinese astronomers believed Vega and Altair were lovers, forever kept apart by the Milky Way.” He points. “Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s in the constellation Lyra. And over there is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle.” 

Riley hesitates, trying to separate fact from innuendo. A pit forms in her stomach as she understands why he’s drawn to these stars in particular. 

Mac must mistake her silence for being unable to find the stars, because suddenly his arms are around her and he’s pulling her toward him so her head rests on his shoulder. 

His touch feels like stars dancing on her skin. 

Mac’s bicep grazes her cheek as he points again, and Riley has no trouble following the line of his arm to a particularly bright star nearly straight up. That must be Vega, the bright one. The other blends into the Milky Way too well for Riley to pick it out. Her voice catches as she half-lies, “I see it.” His arm drops, but instead of letting her go, Mac’s hand rests on her ribcage. 

Riley nearly stops breathing as her heart pounds loud enough that she’s sure Mac can hear it. She doesn’t know what to do. This is uncharted territory, him holding her like this. They’re in each other’s personal space all the time, but they’re never _handsy_. Riley has never been a very touchy person, and she knows Mac isn’t either. 

So this…Riley doesn’t know what to make of this. 

“Show me something else,” she manages. Mac takes a shaky breath beneath her. 

He points in a different direction. “Over there are Sagittarius, which looks like a teapot, and Scorpius, which looks like a hook or the letter ‘J.’” Riley finds the constellations easily. “Between them is the supermassive black hole that exists in the middle of the galaxy. All of the matter in the Milky Way orbits around it.” 

Riley smiles. Mac and his black holes. 

Bozer is taking an awfully long time to pee, and Riley starts to think there might be an ulterior motive to his disappearance. She hollers, “You good, man?” 

“Yeah! Got a little performance anxiety from this creepy bug staring at me.” 

Riley and Mac burst out laughing. Tears sneak out of Riley’s eyes as she holds her stomach, giggling until her lungs ache. Just when she starts to get it together, Riley makes the mistake of looking up at Mac, and they both crack up all over again. 

If Riley could stay in this moment forever, she would. Laughing with Mac feels like stepping into a patch of sunlight on a chilly day. 

Mac is still looking at her when they finally recover. Not in Bozer’s direction, not up at the stars, but at _her_. Riley bites her lip. She could do it right now. Tell him how she feels. 

But a bigger part of her knows that it’s not the right time, no matter how much she wants it to be, no matter how many small moments give her hope that she’s not alone in her feelings. Relationships with a messy beginning never last. Right now, they’re not meant to be, but Riley lets herself hope that maybe, just maybe, in the future, they will be. 

Until then, she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her heart. Starting with loving him quietly, and never expecting anything other than platonic love in return. Just having him in her life is enough. 

Bozer climbs back into the truck, and Riley moves to extricate herself from Mac. His arm tightens around her at first, but when Riley pulls away again, Mac lets her go. She doesn’t think about what it might mean if she stayed. 

The three of them lay together for hours, just looking up at the stars, until Bozer yawns. Riley can’t help but follow suit. 

“Mac,” Bozer says. “Did you set the alarm?” 

“Yeah. My phone is right here.” Mac pats a pillow above Riley’s head. 

She can’t believe what she’s hearing. “ _Alarm_?” 

Mac explains, “The meteor shower’s peak is between three and four am. So unless you’d rather stay up all night…” He trails off. 

Riley groans. _Of course_. 

She pulls up a second blanket and rolls onto her side, facing Bozer. Safely tucked between her boys, Riley drifts off almost immediately. 

~~~~~

Riley wakes before the alarm goes off, struggling to breathe. It feels like someone’s sitting on her chest. 

When she opens her eyes, Riley realizes it’s _two_ someones. 

She’s lying on her back. Between Mac’s arm thrown over her shoulders and Bozer using her chest as a pillow, their combined weight is uncomfortably heavy. They probably got cold and rolled toward her in their sleep. The thought makes her smile. Riley rolls onto her side to dislodge Bozer and ends up flush against Mac’s chest. His warm breath tickles the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. 

_Shit_. She should’ve included not torturing herself in her resolution to love him quietly. 

Riley tries to move again, but it’s futile. She’s stuck. As if to further prove her point, Mac’s arm slides down her body and wraps around her waist, pulling Riley closer like she’s his favorite teddy bear. The gesture makes her melt. Bozer reaches out then, sleepily trying to find his missing pillow, and his hand settles on Riley’s forearm. If Jack could see them now, he’d kill Mac and Bozer without a second thought, but Riley likes being wrapped up in her boys, likes feeling warm and wanted and protected. 

She’s still smiling when she falls back asleep. 

~~~~~

The alarm blares in her ear, and Riley can’t do anything about it. Her arms are trapped. She groans. “ _Turn it off._ ” 

A weight lifts from her side, and then an arm bumps her face as someone mercifully turns the alarm off, followed by a mumbled “Sorry.” Riley isn’t awake enough to recognize the rough, sleepy voice. It sounds nice though, she thinks. She wouldn’t mind hearing it again. 

The weight returns, and the same voice says, “I hit snooze. You have five minutes.” 

It’s Mac, she realizes with a jolt. Bozer would never be so merciful. 

Now she _really_ wants to hear that voice again. 

Mac strokes her shoulder, coaxing Riley into consciousness, and damn him, it works. Her eyes flutter open. It’s still dark out, and Bozer faces them, his head resting beside Riley’s chest, the comma to her and Mac’s quotation marks. 

“Riles, move. I have to pee.” Swallowing her disappointment, Riley uses her feet to push Bozer back to his side, taking back her space. 

“I’m awake,” he slurs. 

Riley feels Mac’s chest rumble as he chuckles. “Sure you are.” He gets up, and Riley immediately mourns the loss of contact. 

He’s back by the time the alarm goes off again, and this time Riley turns it off herself before sitting up to stretch, her joints popping softly. The stars look completely different now. Riley still doesn’t know how to find Perseus, or even what the constellation looks like, but it doesn’t matter. The meteors are more frequent now, nearly two a minute. Most are quick, bright flashes, but a few are slower, gracefully crossing the sky before burning up. 

Someone— _Bozer_ —kicks her in the back. “Riley stop blocking the view.” Rolling her eyes, she lays back down. 

She’s exhausted, and her body hurts, but it’s all worth it when a massive, glowing meteor arcs across the sky in slow motion, lingering for a few seconds before winking out of existence. “Wow,” Riley whispers. 

Mac and Bozer promised her fun, and sure enough, they deliver.

Riley hovers in that sweet spot between sleep and being awake until the sky lightens and the first rays of sunlight stretch across the desert. The air seems to hum, the way it always does in announcement of the scorching summer sun. Riley and the boys pack up in record time, and Mac blasts the air conditioner even though it’s barely six am. 

Leaning into the pile of pillows occupying most of the backseat, Riley orders, “Wake me up when you have my burrito. Goodnight.” 

She dreams of shooting stars and the warm embrace of a certain blonde nerd. 


	6. Meteor Shower (Mac POV)

Mac watches the sun set behind them in his truck’s side mirror as Riley drives, the sky shifting from blue, to pink, then orange, then a dark burning gold, before fading to inky black. In front of them, the rising moon is barely more than a glowing sliver in the sky, and once they leave SoCal’s sprawling metropolis behind, the vast desert darkness swallows the beams of the truck’s headlights. 

Riley rolls her window down, letting the warm night air tug wisps of hair from her messy bun, and Mac can’t help but watch the way she smiles softly and breathes deeply, completely at peace. He rolls down his own window, and the wind ruffles his hair like a lover’s playful fingers. 

Mac is surprised when Riley parks in the empty campground. He assumed other people would have the same idea, but but as far as he can see, the area is devoid of human life. 

Mac turns his gaze to the glittering sea above. His eyes land on Vega and Arcturus—two of the brightest stars in the sky—before trailing the Milky Way to find Sagittarius along the southern horizon. 

Riley’s soft gasp draws his attention back to earth. Her lips part as she smiles, awestruck, and the stars are reflected in her big, dark eyes, almost as if she’s robbing them of their light. Thankfully Riley doesn’t notice his staring, because Mac can’t bring himself to look away. 

He should. He knows he should. But, for some reason, he can’t. 

Mac is still looking, minutes later, when Bozer yells at him to help make their bed. 

It’s not until he’s lying beside Bozer on the mass of pillows and blankets that Mac realizes how small his truck bed really is. In his mind, they all fit perfectly, but in reality, it’s only wide enough for two grown adults, not three. Mac and Bozer scoot to the sides to give Riley as much space as possible, but their shoulders will be overlapping no matter what. 

Riley’s arm brushes Mac’s as she squeezes her slim frame into the space in the middle, her warmth soaking into his skin. Mac likes her this close, likes her steady, reassuring presence at his side. They used to gravitate toward each other more, before he got back together with Desi, and Mac will never admit it aloud, but he misses the closeness he once had with Riley. 

Quarantining with her, there were moments that felt like their old selves—the people they were back when Jack was still around and their biggest problem was Mac and Riley’s respective daddy issues—but then there would be a long, awkward pause in conversation or Desi would come up, and then that weird gap between them would be right back, wide as ever. 

Mac isn’t sure how it even got there in the first place. 

He tries to forget about it, distracting himself by searching for constellations while he waits for the first meteor to appear. Finally, one does, zipping across the horizon in the blink of an eye. 

“Did you see that?” Bozer squeals.

Riley laughs softly. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it came from, or where I should be looking.” 

Mac opens his mouth to explain, but Bozer beats him to it. “For starters, don’t look straight up. Look near the horizon. As Perseus gets higher in the sky during the night, the meteors will appear to come from higher up too.”

“Thanks.” 

They watch the sky in peaceful silence. 

Eventually, Bozer gets up to pee, and while he’s gone, Riley nudges Mac with her knee. “You’ve been quiet,” she says. 

How is he supposed to say that even though their shoulders are literally touching right now, that even though they’ve been locked in his house together for months, he’s never felt farther away from her? That there’s this ever-widening chasm between them that he doesn’t know how to bridge? 

Mac doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his eyes finding Vega overhead. “Ancient Chinese astronomers believed Vega and Altair were lovers, forever kept apart by the Milky Way.” He points with two fingers, one toward each star. “Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s in the constellation Lyra, which just looks like a parallelogram. And over there is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle.”

Riley doesn’t say anything. Mac glances at her in his peripheral vision. She’s squinting slightly, the way she always does when she’s focusing on something. She must not be able to find the stars, he reasons. Mac doesn’t think before sliding an arm beneath Riley’s shoulders and pulling her closer so that her head rests on his shoulder. His arm brushes her cheek as he points again. 

It’s odd being this close to Riley without catching lingering traces of her perfume—a warm, dark scent he can’t pinpoint but likes anyway. She hasn’t worn it since quarantine started, and Mac is starting to miss it. 

“I see it,” she breathes. Mac lets his arm drape across Riley’s body. 

She tenses, but she doesn’t try to extricate herself from his side. Part of Mac knows he probably shouldn’t be holding her like this. A bigger part doesn’t care. Riley is his best friend goddammit, and he can cuddle her if he wants to. It doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“Show me something else,” Riley says softly. 

Mac takes a slightly unsteady breath before pointing in a different direction. “Over there are Sagittarius, which looks like a teapot, and Scorpius, which looks like a hook or the letter ‘J.’ Between them is the supermassive black hole that exists in the middle of the galaxy. All of the matter in the Milky Way orbits around it.” 

Black holes are easy. Black holes make sense. But Riley…Riley doesn’t. 

Especially when the moment passes, and she turns her head away to holler at Bozer. “You good, man?” 

Bozer yells back from the other side of the truck. “Yeah! Got a little performance anxiety from this creepy bug staring at me.” 

Mac imagines Bozer having a staring contest with some random desert bug sitting on the hood of the truck and bursts out laughing. His arm inadvertently tightens around Riley, and the wicked gleam in her eye when she looks up at him makes the moment even funnier. 

He feels it again, that gravitational pull toward her. He’s tempted to let it drag him closer, but he’s afraid of what it might mean if he does. 

Riley squirms when Bozer climbs back into the truck, and Mac hesitates before letting her go. 

The three of them lay together for hours, just looking up at the stars, until Bozer initiates a chain reaction of yawns. “Mac,” Bozer says. “Did you set the alarm?”

Patting the pillow above Riley’s head, he answers, “Yeah. My phone is right here.”

Riley twists to look at him in horror. “ _Alarm_?” 

Mac explains, “The meteor shower’s peak is between three and four am. So unless you’d rather stay up all night…” Riley groans, pulling up a blanket and rolling onto her side. Chuckling at her dramatics, Mac grabs a blanket for himself and watches the stars until he falls asleep. 

~ 

The volume of his alarm is set far too loud for the phone only being inches from his ear, and Mac winces as he’s forced into consciousness. Beside him, Riley growls, “ _Turn it off_.” 

He’s lying on his side with an arm around Riley’s waist, holding her in the curve of his body, but it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Riley fit against him. Mac accidentally bumps her face as he silences the alarm, and he mumbles, “Sorry.” There’s no room to move away from her, so Mac just brushes Riley’s hair out of his face and puts his arm back around her. “I hit snooze. You have five minutes.” 

She sighs, absentmindedly brushing her thumb over his hand, and warmth spreads through Mac’s body that has nothing to do with the fact that it’s still nearly eighty degrees outside, even in the middle of the night. He lets himself snuggle closer. If he could live in the calm safety of this moment forever, Mac would. 

But he doesn’t hold Riley for long before feeling like he’s about to explode. Mac rubs her shoulder. “Riles, move. I have to pee.”

Riley groans again, but then her hips press into his as she pushes Bozer away, and Mac scrambles to get up before anything awkward happens. 

“I’m awake,” Bozer slurs.

“Sure you are.”

He’s back by the time the alarm goes off again, and Mac can hear the soft popping of Riley’s joints as she sits up and stretches. The meteors are more frequent now, nearly two a minute. Most are quick, bright flashes, but a few are slower, gracefully crossing the sky before burning up.

“Riley stop blocking the view,” Bozer says, kicking her in the back. Riley flops back down. 

A massive, glowing meteor arcs across the sky in slow motion, lingering for a few seconds before winking out of existence. “Wow,” Riley whispers, smiling. 

Wow is an understatement. Mac would’ve driven all the way out here for that meteor alone. 

Mac keeps his eyes trained on the heavens until the sky lightens and the first rays of sunlight stretch across the desert. The air seems to hum, the way it always does in announcement of the scorching summer sun. 

When they pile into the truck, Mac blasts the air conditioner. He’s already sweating, even though it’s barely six am. As he drives out of the campground and toward the highway, Bozer rattles off suggestions for where to stop for breakfast burritos on the way home. 

Apparently content to let Bozer decide, Riley demands, “Wake me up when you have my burrito. Goodnight.” Mac glances at her in the rearview mirror and smiles; she’s sprawled across the pillows and blankets, already fast asleep. 


	7. Prison Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don't talk about the effects of Riley's prison time enough, and honestly that's a crime.

The prison flashbacks start around the same time Riley loses track of the number of days she’s been trapped inside Mac’s house. 

At first they’re just sporadic dreams, and Riley writes them off as nothing. An extra long run is enough to shake off the caged-in feeling. 

And then they start happening during the day. 

Riley and Mac are sparring in the living room, and she’s losing. “Losing your edge there, Riles?” he teases, pulling yet another punch she failed to deflect. 

She bluffs, “Maybe I’m just tricking you.” She totally isn’t. Mac is winning, and he knows it. 

Riley stumbles, and Mac capitalizes on her moment of weakness to slam her into the wall face-first, pinning her wrists behind her back. He whoops in victory, but Riley doesn’t hear it. The flashback seizes Riley’s body, teleporting her consciousness to a part of her past she’d rather forget. 

It’s her first day. The prison guards—two of them—escort her to the cafeteria. Inside, the other women study Riley like she’s about to be their next meal. They’re all huddled in their cliques, and it doesn’t take Riley long to figure out which one is at the top of the food chain. 

It’s like middle school all over again, only worse. 

A woman probably ten years older than Riley approaches. She’s the alpha. Her dirty orange jumpsuit does little to conceal her thick, muscled body, but it’s her eyes that frighten Riley most—steel gray and completely devoid of emotion, except maybe hunger. And Riley is fresh meat. 

Even though every nerve in her body screams at her to run the other way, Riley keeps her head down and tries to walk past the woman. _Maybe I’ll get lucky_ , she thinks. But her luck ran out long ago. 

Before Riley knows what’s happening, the woman has her smashed against the wall, arms pinned behind her back. She struggles, but the woman holds firm. Her breath is hot and rancid as she growls in Riley’s ear. “You’re too pretty for a place like this. What’s your name, girl?” 

Riley doesn’t answer. 

The woman yanks Riley’s hair hard enough for her vision to blur. “I said, _what’s your name, girl_?” 

Riley’s voice is squeaky and pathetic as she tells her. 

“See?” she croons. “That wasn’t hard.” There’s laughter in the background. “What are you in for? They don’t throw just anybody in here.”

Riley takes a deep, steadying breath. She can’t be herself here. She can’t show fear. These women probably eat fear for breakfast. Riley speaks in a low, cruel voice that sounds foreign to her ears. “I’m a hacker. A good one. Give me five minutes with a computer, and I can make every single one of you disappear from the face of the earth so thoroughly the world will forget you existed at all.” 

It’s enough for the woman to release her, just slightly. 

She hears her name then, ringing in her ears. A man’s voice, coming from somewhere very far away. 

The flashbacks have changed over the years, steadily growing more distorted from reality. In the last one, she was shanked with the handle-end of a spoon and died on her first day. Other times, the women are little more than high school bullies weaponizing their words for verbal and psychological warfare. 

Even after all this time, Riley still can’t break out of the flashbacks on her own any more than she could’ve broken herself out of prison. The flashbacks are her new prison, with her mind as her jailer. 

She hears her name again, and it’s muffled, like she’s underwater. 

Maybe the owner will pull her out. Maybe they’ll just let her drown. Her fate is up to them either way. 

Hands grip her shoulders. Riley jerks away on instinct, hitting something hard and cool. Closing her eyes, she shrinks in on herself and waits for it all to be over. Tears threaten to sneak out. Riley clenches her eyes shut even harder. 

The hands slide up to her face. 

“Open your eyes,” the voice says. 

She can’t. She’s afraid of what might be there when she does. 

“You’re safe,” the voice promises. “I’ve got you.” 

Riley opens her eyes and is met with familiar bright blue ones, tinged with fear. _Mac_. She sees the familiar setting of his living room before her vision starts to blur. 

He brushes her tears away. “There you are.” Mac steps closer like he’s going to hug her, and Riley’s throat tightens as the caged-in feeling returns. Riley shoves him back as hard as she can, bolting out the front door. 

Her knees buckle the second she reaches the lawn, and then she’s on her hands and knees, desperately trying to breathe again. She hears Mac’s cautious footsteps approach, but Riley focuses on the feeling of grass beneath her palms. The sun on her back. Birds chirping. Mac crouches a healthy distance away, giving her space. 

_I’m home_ , she promises herself. _I’m safe. I got out_. A shuddering breath. _I’m not going back_. 

Riley flops onto her back. The sky is extra blue today and dizzyingly bright. Wordlessly, Mac mirrors her. 

When Riley is sure the flashback won’t come screaming back, she reaches out and grazes her fingers against Mac’s. She hears him let out a long, shaky exhale before he threads his fingers between hers and presses their palms together. 

Minutes pass in silence, and Riley’s voice is hoarse as she finally confesses, “I’m not okay.” 

Mac squeezes her hand. _Go on_.

“I’ve been having dreams where I’m back in prison. Until now, they’ve only been at night. This is the first one during the day.” 

“What happened?” 

Panic flares in her chest. Riley takes slow, deep breaths until it subsides. “They, uh, had me pinned against a wall.” 

Mac’s grip tightens. “ _Fuck_. Riles, I’m sorry. This was my fault.” His voice is thick. 

Riley squeezes his hand but doesn’t look at him. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? About the dreams.” 

_Because you have plenty of your own problems. I’m not burdening you with mine too_. “I don’t know.” Her eyes track a bird flying overhead. It’s easier than facing Mac. 

He toys with the ring on her thumb. “Thank you for telling me now.” A pause. “What can I do to help you?” 

Riley doesn’t have a clue. 

She focuses on the sensation of his hand in hers, of his deft fingers mindlessly twisting her ring. It grounds her just as much as the damp grass beneath her, just as much as the sun on her face. She’s safe. It’s been over five years since she’s been trapped inside those concrete walls. Less since she’s been arrested and thrown in a holding cell thanks to ops gone wrong. She supposes that’s the one upside to the pandemic—that she won’t be risking jail time any time soon. 

But some days LA’s total lockdown feels like just another prison itself. 

“Do you ever think about that one time you got sent to prison for an op?” she asks. “Not long after I joined the team.” She knows it’s a long shot, but part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can commiserate.

“Every once in a while,” Mac admits. “But that wasn’t anything like what you experienced.” 

So much for empathy. 

“Will you stay out here with me?” Even if he can’t understand, Mac’s presence is better than facing the memories alone. 

“As long as you need.” He squeezes her hand twice this time, and Riley returns the gesture, letting it communicate everything she can’t say aloud. 

They lie there until the shadows grow long, and the setting sun dips below the neighbors’ roof. 


	8. Mac's Shirt

Riley slid down the hallway in sock-clad feet, laundry basket perched on her hip. Bozer had been on her and Mac’s asses about not leaving clothes in the dryer, so Riley begrudgingly paused her T.V. show and got up to retrieve her laundry right when the buzzer went off. 

Moving quickly so that she could fold the clothes while they were still warm and wrinkle-free, Riley moved the next load from the washer into the dryer and started it before retreating to her bedroom with the clean clothes. 

She dumped them on the bed, humming softly while she folded, faltering when she picked up a shirt that definitely wasn’t hers. The plain gray t-shirt was warm and impossibly soft. Riley wasn’t sure which of the boys it belonged to, so she left it on her bed, promising to put it back in the laundry room later, and continued folding. Eager to get back to her T.V. show, Riley left the folded clothes on her bed. She could put them away later. 

She’d just sat back down on the couch when Mac yelled her name from the garage. Groaning, Riley got up to see what he needed.

She found him on his back, working on the classic motorcycle he owned and never rode. Tools littered the garage floor, and grease stained Mac’s clothes. Riley squatted beside him. “What’s up?”

Without looking up, Mac asked, “Can you hand me that wrench over there?” He vaguely gestured with his knee.

Riley pressed her lips together. _Lazy ass._ “Okay.” She dragged out the syllables as she handed him the tool.

“Thanks.”

“Need anything else?”

“Uhh, hang on.” Riley heard a cranking noise, and then Mac started to slide out from under the bike. It wobbled, and her only warning was Mac’s mumbled “ _Shit_ ” before the motorcycle started to tip.

Riley lunged forward, barely catching it in time before it fell onto Mac. At the same time, his hand shot up blindly, landing square on Riley’s stomach.

They both froze.

Riley was kneeling over him, holding the bike upright. She didn’t let herself question why, in his adrenaline spike, Mac reached for her instead of trying to protect himself.

“Thanks,” he said again, slightly breathless. Mac removed his hand, leaving a large, greasy handprint behind. His eyes widened as he scooted out from under the bike. “Shit. Sorry.”

Riley frowned. The shirt was one of her favorites, but all she said was, “It’s okay.” She stood. “If you’re done trying to squish yourself like a bug, I’m gonna go change.”

Back in her room, Riley carefully removed her greasy shirt. Without thinking, she grabbed the closest clean one off her bed before bringing the stained one to the kitchen to hopefully save it with some dish soap.

Mac was already there, scrubbing grease off his skin. His eyes immediately focused on her as she rounded the corner, before narrowing. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

Tensing, Riley glanced down at the gray shirt skimming her thighs. She owned plenty of oversized t-shirts, so she hadn’t realized she’d managed to grab the one shirt that wasn’t hers.

 _Of course,_ it was Mac’s.

Maybe she could still get out of this mostly unscathed. Riley played dumb. “Is it? It was in the load I just took out if the dryer. I thought it was mine.”

_Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie._

Mac suddenly looked just as uncomfortable as Riley felt. “I’m, uhh, missing one that looks just like that. It probably got stuck inside the washer or something.” He cast his gaze downward as he dried his hands. 

The situation got more awkward every second. “Oh,” Riley said. “I can give it back now if you want.” Not that she actually wanted to give it back, now knowing it was Mac’s.

Mac’s ears were slightly pink as he stuttered, “No. It’s fine. You can wear it. It—” He swallowed. “It looks good on you.”

“Okay,” Riley squeaked.

Mac walked away, and Riley scrubbed her grease-stained shirt until her fingers went numb, desperately wishing she could scrub her embarrassment away too. 


End file.
